


I Like to Watch

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock star, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mako is Star-Struck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: Mako has a habit of dressing up like security to get into concerts for free.  He comes backstage when he can.  It’s the best view in the house, and he usually looks too big and stern for anyone to stop and ask for his nonexistent badge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WodensSkadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WodensSkadi/gifts).



> This is for Woden's Skadi. She has been amazingly supportive to me and is a wonderful writer herself. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this little slice of AU!
> 
> EDIT: Now with ficart I commissioned from [Satyrcake](http://satyrcake.tumblr.com)!

“You’re not one of my security,” Fawkes says.

Mako freezes and looks back at the man who just turned the corner.  Jamison Fawkes.  The talent of the concert he’s at, and the last person he expected to run into.  Mako has a habit of dressing up like security to get into concerts for free.  He comes backstage when he can.  It’s the best view in the house, and he usually looks too big and stern for anyone to stop and ask for his nonexistent badge.

The crowds after Fawkes’s concerts are insane, so he hangs out at the employee refreshments table, waiting for the crowds to disperse before he slips out.  He never intended to see Fawkes-- he’s never run into him before, so it’s strange that he is now.

“What, you sneak back here t’get me to sign ya tit or something?”

“Nah,” Mako says, carefully sipping his small plastic cup of punch.

Fawkes grins and nods. The nod is agitated and it lasts a lot longer than it probably should.  Mako wonders if he might be a little high, but he knows from articles and interviews that Fawkes ends up jumpy as shit after his shows.  It’s why he does the meet and greets beforehand.

“You want me to anyway?” he asks.  “They look real nice.”  His left hand raises up, like he wants to touch Mako.

Mako feels his neck flushing, and he sets his cup down before taking a step forward.  His stomach is fluttering. Even if this is a joke, Mako would rather be within touching distance of Fawkes and embarrassed than walk away from his favorite musician and performer and retain his dignity.

Fawkes seems delighted by Mako’s bold step forward, and he touches his soft chest, then shifts his hand to cup and squeeze.

It sends electricity through Mako. Fawkes gives Mako another squeeze before brushing his thumb across Mako’s nipple, already puckering beneath his shirt.

“Ooh… is that a ring I feel?”  Fawkes pinches the ring between his fingers and pulls.

Mako makes a noise in his throat.  He’s not sure what to say or do.  He can barely think past the blood rushing to his dick.  Fawkes is right in front of him. He’s touching him, pulling his ring, stepping closer—

“Wanna blow off some steam?” 

_Fuck yes._

“Yeah.”

“Great!  It’s gonna be great. So hot.  I feel like I’m about ready to blow right now,” Fawkes says with a giggle.  He presses up against Mako, his thin torso barely long enough to allow his chin to rest on Mako’s chest while it curves around Mako’s gut.

“... are we talking fucking or pyrotechnics?”  Mako asks uncertainly.

Fawkes laughs, and it spikes right to Mako’s gut.  He has an amazing laugh.  “Why not both?”

Mako finds himself smiling a bit at that. Fawkes grins at the encouragement and his prosthetic hand comes up from his side to take Mako’s hand.  He places it on his hip and leans up with wide-blown eyes to bump his nose against Mako’s.  Probably definitely high.

“What kind of fantasies you been sitting on?” he asks.

“What makes you think I’ve fantasized about you?” Mako asks, feeling the press of Fawkes’s cock against his stomach.

“You’re obsessed enough to come back stage uninvited,” Fawkes points out.

Mako snorts and grips Fawkes’s hip harder.  Fawkes’s interest is suddenly diverted from teasing Mako to admiring just how strong he is.

“Christ you’re a big’un. Does the equipment match the packaging?” He asks, suddenly gone from leaning against Mako’s stomach and kneeling in front of him.

“It’s… proportionate,” Mako settles on, stepping away as Fawkes’s hands give him a squeeze through his jeans.  “We’re in the middle of everything,” he points out, not interested in becoming a tabloid. 

Fawkes makes a face, but he stands and grabs Mako by the shirt.  “Fine, mate, but if I lose my stiffie because you needed some privacy, y’suckin’ me off.”

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?” Mako asks, more amused at Fawkes’s mood than cowed by it.

Fawkes’s face suddenly changes, going from miffed to delighted in an instant and he stops dragging Mako around to push him back against one of the walls.  “You’re a goddamned gift, mate,” he tells him, voice barely above a purr.  He has a little vocal fry from the concert.  Mako didn’t notice it until now, and it only makes his voice hotter.

Mako leans in, emboldened by Fawkes’s apparent infatuation with him.  “Get us somewhere secluded and you can unwrap me.”  

Fawkes looks surprised for half a second, then that high, reedy near-giggle leaves him.  His throat crackles around it and Mako suddenly wants to shove cold water down Fawkes’s throat and maybe some lozenges too.  Fawkes looked like he had been intending to suck him off earlier, but Mako isn’t about to abuse his throat any more than his show had.

Fawkes’s hand slides down Mako’s arm to wrap around his hand and he drags him away again.

He is holding hands with Jamison _Fucking_ Fawkes.

Mako’s heart skips a beat with every step, and he feels his stomach flip every time they turn a corner.

There’s a back door with two security guards standing around it.  Mako is too wrapped up in the surreality of the situation to jerk his hand away, and he allows himself to be lead out the door and into the large tour bus with _Fawkes_ emblazoned on the side.

Once they’re in, Fawkes locks the door and hits a button on the wall.  All the windows tint with a dark privacy shade and then Fawkes presses against Mako again, his eyes half lidded and his mouth curved in a sly smirk.  “So, how about those fantasies, big guy?”

Mako wraps his hands around Fawkes’s arms and leans down, his heart hammering against his chest.  Honestly, just touching Fawkes is a dream come true.  He smells like sweat and gunpowder residue, and when Mako presses his lips to Fawkes’s, they taste like beer and faintly of cigarettes.

Fawkes seems to go boneless against Mako, but then he’s grabbing him by his shirt again and dragging him toward one of the couches lining the walls.  “Right,” Fawkes says.  “Forgot you’re not a talker.”  Coming from Fawkes, it feels less like a criticism and more like a personal reminder.

The bus sways when Mako sits down heavily, but Fawkes doesn’t seem concerned by it.  He strips his shirt off and then he’s on top of Mako, grinding against his thigh and pressing their lips together again.  

“Christ, you’re so warm, mate,” he says between wet, sucking kisses.

Mako’s hands touch Fawkes, tracing every divot and sharp line of bone. He doesn’t realize that he’s been mesmerized by the feel of his skin, the odd scars and planes of it, until Fawkes’s cold hands slide up his shirt and he nearly bucks him off his leg.

“Shit!” Mako says, shoving at Fawkes’s hands, but the star just burrows them further into the warm crevices he’s found beneath the clothing.

“Sorry, mate!  Blood’s all gone south,” he says with a grin that Mako can only think of as shit-eating.

Mako huffs and drags Fawkes in for another kiss.  “Guess I should fix that,” he rumbles before turning to the side and laying Fawkes out on the couch.  His long, thin legs wrap around Mako’s hips, and Fawkes laughs.

“Not a lot of blokes what can just toss me ‘round like this,” he says, withdrawing his hands as Mako kisses his way down Fawkes’s body.  He catches hold of Mako’s shirt and pulls, causing it to come up and making Mako pause his kissing to take it off.  

“Not a lot of blokes are ballsy enough to drag me around,” Mako points out before going back to lavishing Fawkes’s stomach.

Fawkes laughs again, and Mako is starting to wonder of that’s how he reacts to everything.  He did it a lot in interviews, but Mako always figured he was nervous one-on-one, not genuinely delighted by every little thing.

When Mako makes it to the edge of Fawkes’s pants, the star’s hands touch Mako’s hair.  While he works Fawkes’s pants open, thin clever fingers, both flesh and mechanical, work the tie out of it and then tangle in the loose grey locks.

“Watch those joints,” Mako warns before licking along Fawkes’s hip bone.  He doesn’t wear underwear.  The hands tighten in his hair and Fawkes makes a noise that shows he’s not listening but trying to act like he is.

Mako smirks and bites down on Fawkes’s side as his hands peel Fawkes’s tight pants down.  There’s not much to him besides muscle, but Mako still gets a good nip in.

“Fuck.  Fuuuuuck, fuck,” Fawkes groans and it only makes Mako want to take more time.  Fawkes’s cock is hard and upright next to him now.  It’s flushed and near leaking already.  “Please just finish me, mate.  Do your teasing later,” he groans when Mako allows his stubble to brush against it as he presses a suckling kiss to the tattoo right above and to the right of Fawkes’s cock.  He’s entirely smooth, like he shaved before the show.  It’s a strange sensation, licking across smooth skin so low, but Mako doesn’t usually hook up with men like Fawkes.

“Fuck,” Fawkes groans again, and Mako finally decides to give him what he wants.  His head tastes bitter with precome, but Fawkes is easy to take in.  His cock fits him, long and lean.  Mako follows the veins with his tongue, taking his time going down a few inches and then coming back up, following those veins down again and then bobbing back up.

Fawkes’s hands in his hair clutch harder and Mako groans when his hair is pulled.

Fawkes’s hips snap up, and he groans and pants above Mako, obviously chasing something that Mako was trying to take his time with.

His tongue laps around the shaft while his mouth forms a warm, bobbing vacuum, and it only takes a few more passes up and down Fawkes’s cock before his legs jerk by Mako’s sides and his hands shove Mako down farther, his hips snapping and his cock emptying itself into Mako’s throat.

Without much choice or preference, Mako pulls off and swallows a few times to clear the come and drool from his mouth.

“Aces,” Fawkes purrs, his hands going limp in Mako’s hair.

Mako hums and works his way up to kiss Fawkes, surprised at how passionate the other man is even with his own spunk in the mix.

“Right,” Fawkes says, his left hand skating down Mako’s shoulder and bulging bicep to play with his nipple ring.  “Now what’s your fantasy for what you want from me?” 

Mako kisses Fawkes’s jaw and neck as he thinks of all the things he would love for Fawkes to do to him, gobbies aside, but he suddenly realizes that Fawkes’s right hand is still in his hair and it hasn’t moved since it got there.

“You stuck?” Mako asks before scraping his teeth against Fawkes’s adam’s apple.

“Nah, mate.  Just... like your hair.”

“Yeah? Like how silky it is?” Mako asks, muffled against Fawkes’s skin.  He never wants to pull away.  He tastes like electricity and coffee, salt and earth.

“Yeah,” Fawkes sighs and tilts his head back, allowing Mako to suck on more skin.

Mako pauses and then bites Fawkes’s neck hard.  Dumbass.  They both know he can’t feel that acutely with his prosthesis.  He’s stuck.

Fawkes gasps and arches beneath Mako, his soft cock, tacky with come and spit sticks against Mako’s stomach and Fawkes winces when it pulls.

“Are you able to get your hand out of my hair on your own?” Mako asks, kissing the indents his teeth left behind and trying not to get too annoyed with him.

“Wanna finish you first,” Fawkes says, like that’s its own answer.

“Try,” Mako tells him, resting his cheek against Fawkes’s shoulder and closing his eyes.  Think about how warm he is; think about how hot he is; think about the way Fawkes looked staring up at him, ready to suck his cock with his wrecked throat.

Fawkes makes a frustrated noise after a bit and Mako hears hair ripping.  God damn it.

“Done!” Fawkes announces after a few more seconds of fiddling.

Mako sighs and pulls back to sit up and drag Fawkes into his lap.  All in all, some uneven hair was a small price to pay for the lay he was about to have.  “Where’s your lube?” he asks.

Fawkes nods toward the back of the bus.

Mako snorts. Of course it’s across the bus.  He holds Fawkes to him with one hand on his ass and uses the other to push off of the couch.

Fawkes clings to Mako with his arms around his shoulders.  When he catches sight of Fawkes’s expression, the idiot doesn’t look like he regrets getting his hand stuck at all.   He looks pleased with himself-- proud and lustful as Mako elbows through the door to the bedroom.  Mako drops Fawkes on the bed and crawls on after him.

He lays back, kicking a spiked leather boot off of the end of the bed before shifting around and getting comfortable.  The mattress has to cost more than his car.  As soon as he’s down, Fawkes scrambles on top of him, grinning and touching like he hadn’t just been thrown away.

“Surprised you bought into the whole rockstar lifestyle,” Mako says.  Fawkes’s break out single had been a song named “Eat the Rich, Feed the Poor,” and his main schtick a few years ago had been how he was living in the same apartment even after hitting it big.  Mako lets his hands fall to his sides and jerks his head toward the drawers.  “Got luxury lube too?”

Fawkes laughs and kisses Mako before rolling across him and reaching for the side table.  “Hey, they call me a sell out, might as well prove ‘em right,” Fawkes says, rummaging around before crawling back on top of Mako and using his teeth to unscrew the top of the tube.  “You want the honors…?” Fawkes’s smile is wide and winning.  

It makes Mako smile back.  That look is dangerous.  It probably gets him what he wants all the time.

Mako’s unswayed.  “Do it yourself.  I like to watch.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Hands touch him.  He knows one of them is warm and the other is cold, but he can’t really tell if that’s from what he knows about the person attached to the hands or if that’s what he actually feels— he also doesn’t know how he knows who is touching him or how they got here.  Where they are._

_“You don’t belong here.”  The hands descend and a body presses against him. It’s lithe and hard, muscled to the point of being ridiculous.  It feels good against his bulk._

_“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” Mako asks, resisting the urge to drag the hard body against him.  He was pressing enough on his own._

_“Hm… dunno, you could probably take my guys,” Fawkes admits.  The hands slide up Mako’s stomach and touch his chest._

_“Probably,” Mako agrees, ignoring the groping hands.  He wants them lower.  Mako could wake up any moment, he wants to feel Fawkes again before he does._

_“Think I’d rather you take me,” Fawkes breathes against Mako’s neck._

_Mako can’t hold back a buck when he hears that, and the pleasure builds as Fawkes’ reedy laughter rings in his ears.  Mako clenched his eyes and loses himself in the dream._

_The hands rub up and down his legs, and a mouth wraps around his cock.  Mako groans and pants, not sure where his trousers went but clinging to the feeling, the build of pleasure and pressure until he spills over—_

Mako’s alarm is loud and blaring.  He wants to murder it.

He jabs his finger at his phone several times, nearly cracking the screen before he finally hits stop.  His dick is so hard it hurts.  He’d rolled onto his stomach in the middle of the night and now his morning wood is pressed between his gut and the mattress.  

Mako rolls over and shoves his hand down his pants, clinging to the vestiges of the dream.  Fawkes catching him again.  Pressing up against him— where? Probably in a dark corner; so eager they can’t make it to his trailer.

Lifting Fawkes and fucking him against the wall, kissing him until neither of them can think straight...

Mako’s breaths are more labored than usual as he gasps and groans, occasionally slipping Fawkes’s name in to maintain the fantasy.

He tugs and squeezes and rubs until he finally feels his gut pinch and he tumbles over the edge of orgasm with a loud, drawn out, “ _fuck…_ ”

He lies there with his shorts still up and come warm and wet between his flesh and the fabric.  Mako chuckles and draws his hand out of his pants to stretch.  Holy shit he had actually fucked Fawkes last night.  He glances at his phone and sees it’s only two-past-twelve.  Holy shit that was fast.

He wanted something like this for years.  Something so hot and vivid that he didn’t need porn or the loop of the three and half minute mark from Fawkes’s “Under You (Explicit)” playing through his sound system.  He was finally able to picture Fawkes.  Really picture him, feel him, hear him.  Hell, he could probably still pick out his smell.  Stale weed, gunpowder and metal.  It makes Mako’s cock twitch weakly and he finally gets up to clean himself off.  Come slides down his inner thigh as he moves and he wrinkles his nose at the sticky feel of it.  He’s pretty sure Fawkes is extra enough that he would lick him clean after.  He only mildly regrets not going for the blowjob.

Once he’s cleaned up and has brunch in the microwave, he sits down with his tablet to answer some emails and work on tomorrow’s lesson plan.  Over the course of the week he wants to cover the importance of oral history among the Maori and Pacifica people and western civilization’s influence on its practice and validity.  It’s a lot to cram into a week, but he’s confident that there will be some interesting class discussions. If they get too into it, he can assign group essays.

An email alert pops up just as he finishes eating— Fawkes was caught smoking pot at a coffee shop.  Mako flicks the alert away, not interested in ruining his mood with how stupid his celebrity crush is.

Shit.  He was definitely high when they fucked last night.  Did that make Mako a bad person?  Would Fawkes even remember it?

Mako gets another wank out of last night’s activities before his social media goes off and ruins any good feelings he could possibly have.

_16:30 Lucio: looks like jamie hooked up with a chick again_

A link follows the message.  Lucio purposely hid the preview so that he wouldn’t be able to satisfy his curiosity with it and Mako decides he’s not going to look at it.  He tries to focus on his work, he’s halfway through creating some thought provoking discussion questions for Tuesday’s lesson… but the sentence taunts him.  

_jamie hooked up with a chick again_

Maybe Mako shouldn’t have snuck out before Fawkes woke up.  Did he just have a girl on call for his morning wood? He tries not to be bitter, but he finds himself breaking after only a few minutes.  The link opens a twitter video: Fawkes sits in his trailer, on the couch where Mako had sucked him off last night.  There’s a series of bruises on his chest and neck, visible above the distressed and stretched neck of his shirt. He looks like he could have just rolled out of bed. His hair is messy and his eyes are half lidded as he tunes his guitar.  It’s always surreal hearing Fawkes on an acoustic and without any post production effects.

Even more surreal is the song he sings, slow and haunting after about two minutes of wringing a compelling series of riffs from the old wooden guitar.

_When I saw you backstage after the show_

_you were dressed in black and ready to go_

_your hands were warm but your expression was iceeee_

_when i touched your tits, yeah, it felt real niceeeee_

Mako doesn’t process anything past the first verse.  He can’t.  He absolutely can’t think of anything past the relief that Fawkes didn’t suddenly move on the next morning.  

The song isn’t about some titted up groupie.

It’s about him.

Fawkes wrote a song about fucking Mako last night.

He plays the video again, wanting a good picture of Fawkes’s bruises for his phone background, but he misses the perfect cap because he finally hears the Chorus and ending verse.

_Come backstage (backstage)_

_I wanna meet you backstage (backstage)_

_We can go for a bite_

_Do what you like_

_I’ll get down on my knee_

_If I just got to see…_

_You backstage_

Mako’s face burns as he plays it through again.  God, what a sappy idiot.  

Mako forgets his lesson plan and the screencap.  As soon as the video ends the third time, he looks up tickets for next Saturday.  If Fawkes wants to see him again, who is he do deny him?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a fucking mess,” Mako tells him.
> 
> Fawkes winks at him and pulls his hoodie back up like it’ll make him any kind of incognito. He kisses Mako deeply, forcing his tongue past his lips and letting out a cracking groan. “You know it,” he says with a laugh when he pulls back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cancel asked for more of this one. How could I refuse?
> 
> Warning for some asphyxiation in this chapter.

Mako shows up to Fawkes’s concert in his usual: dark jeans, wicked spiked boots and his black SECURITY shirt.  When he sees the actual security, though, they’re wearing red shirts with ACTUAL REAL SECURITY printed on them.  Mako laughs at the cheek and guesses he’s going to have to either get a custom shirt or stop being a freeloading dick and save up his meager teacher salary for tickets from now on.

He’s in line with his ticket in hand when there’s a tap on his shoulder.  He looks around and then down at the beefy gray-haired security guy in his bright red shirt.  He’s tall, but Mako is literally a giant.  

Mako raises a brow at the man, and the security guard clears his throat before asking in a clipped, no-nonsense military manner, “did you fuck Fawkes last week?”

Mako feels the eyes behind him lock onto them and sees a few people in front of him turn around and stare.  Something holds him back from replying, and he feels his neck flush with all the sudden attention.  People are murmuring amongst themselves; he sees a few phones held aloft.

The security guard pulls out a laminated VIP pass attached to a lanyard and hands it to Mako.  “Listen, you’re the biggest guy out here.  Come with me so I can stop asking tall men if they fucked the talent.”

Mako would go with the security just to get out of the blob of people murmuring around them.  He slips the lanyard over his head and follows the man away from the venue’s massive, ornate entrance to a standard-sized side door.  He has to duck to get in.  He can hear the murmur of the crowd funneling into the venue, but there’s a thin eight foot high wall separating them from the rest of the concert crowd milling about in the atrium.  The theater is beautiful inside.  The molding around the ceiling is a few decades older than Mako, and he can see the top half of a sweeping staircase leading up to what is probably balcony seating.  He hasn’t been to this theater before, it’s normally too far from home to be worth the trip outside of a weekend getaway like this.  He’s heard about its gorgeous architecture standing the test of time and remembers a news article from when they converted the floor from permanent seating to adjustable standing room in order to stay relevant with the times.  It was one of the first few old theaters to make the conversion in the area.

The security guard leads Mako through a series of hallways with several offices and rooms before they reach what Mako has come to realize is a pretty standard setup for backstage at most venues.  There are tons of people running this way and that, equipment cases are everywhere except in the walkway brightly taped onto the hard cement floor.  

The security guard leads Mako to one of the dressing rooms and just as they reach it, a tall, heavily muscled man in a Fawkes concert t-shirt comes out looking absolutely _bummed_.  Mako watches him walk away with another man in a bright red ACTUAL REAL SECURITY t-shirt following him.

“You lot are useless!” Fawkes snaps from within.  “What part of _fuck-off huge_ don’t you understand?  Those blokes are _medium_ compared to the guy I’m asking for.”

“Jamie, you didn’t even get his name!  This is entirely on you, stop being mean,” a lightly accented woman’s voice chides him.  

“How was I supposed to work _that_ in?” Fawkes asks.  He’s pouting at the mirror when Mako enters the dressing room, slumped down into the chair and twisting petulantly every time the hair and makeup person tries to do their job.  “Hi, I’m Jamison Fawkes, thanks for sucking my dick, what’s your name?” He scoffs and spins the chair around in a circle, causing the stylist to toss her sponge on the counter beside her makeup kit and shoot a pleading look at the short, cheerfully rounded Asian woman who is talking to Fawkes.

“Mako,” Mako says.

Fawkes squawks and drops his feet to the floor to stop his spinning and then whirls back around to face Mako.  “Holy shit!  Great job, Jack!” he says, hopping up from the chair and crossing the room to grab Mako’s hand with his prosthetic and shake it.  “Nice to meet you again, Mako, _real_ big fan of your work.”

Mako smirks and gives Fawkes’s hand a squeeze.  It’s cold overall, but the orange LEDs running through it create a few warm spots.  “Same here,” he says.

Fawkes’s eyes drop from Mako’s face to his chest and he giggles before taking two handfuls and giving Mako’s tits a firm squeeze.

“Jamison Fawkes!” the petite woman shrieks and grabs Fawkes, dragging him away from Mako.  “I’m so sorry.  He’s usually like this.” She shoves Fawkes back into the chair and smacks him upside the head when he waves at Mako with a wink. He just laughs and slumps into the chair, staring at Mako and twisting back and forth twitchily.  The woman is talking to him, and Mako pulls his attention back to her.  “We can offer you free concessions and two vouchers for future shows for not sharing—” she stops when Mako waves his hand at her.

“I’ll still take those things, but don’t worry, my lips are sealed,” he says.

“Thank you,” the woman sighs with relief and pushes her glasses back up her nose.  “Now, I may have to ask you to leave for now so that he’ll calm down.  I don’t know what he’s had tonight or how much, but he’ll probably be less… well, just _less_ after the show,” she explains, walking Mako to the door.  “You’re welcome to watch from the general admission area,“ she says.  “There are also box seats available to either side of the stage.”

Fawkes bounces in his chair, his grin manic and his eyes wide and hyper focused on Mako.  Mako bites back the offer that he might be able to help keep him calm, considering that Fawkes wanted him found so badly.  He nods at the woman and his security guard comes with him.  The view from the pit would probably be great, but his knee already hurts from standing in line for nearly half an hour, and people would be more likely to hurt themselves on him than have fun.  

“I’ll take a box seat,” he tells Jack.

“10-4,” the man says, leading him back through the venue and then out a door into the atrium.  They wade through the throng of people and mount the stairs Mako has seen a glimpse of earlier.  Once they’re up in the balcony, Jack leads him around the side to a door that leads to the box seats flanking the high ceiling of the theater.  “The view’s probably best from this one,” Jack tells him, opening the door of one of the rooms and allows Mako to see for himself.

The seating is typical of what he would see in a movie theater, and the arms of the seat shift up and out of the way so that he can make two seats into one to fit his girth.  The view of the stage looks great; it’s not so close that he’s only going to see Fawkes’s side, but it’s not so far away he won’t be able to make out details and really enjoy watching.  People mill about beneath him, and if he looks over on his left, he can see people sitting in the balcony seats, most of them using them in ways that they weren’t meant to be.  

“This is fine,” he tells Jack.  “Thanks.”  Jack gives him a two fingered salute and then turns to leave.  

Mako adjusts the theater seats to hold him and sits with a sigh.  Well, this is different.

The theater fills up quickly.  Mako messages Lucio a picture of his view and they chat idly as the crowd roars for the opening act.  He’s seen a few of their shows online and once in person, but he’s not a huge fan.  Their music is a bit contrived and their front man attempts to be edgy and cool, but his long black jacket and mask just make Mako think they’re trying too hard.  Their background soprano and pianist is pretty hot, though, and her deeply cut costumes as a counter to Reaper’s all black attire make up some of the most iconic imagery they use for their albums.  The other members of their band tend to fade into the background as a result, but Akande and Maximilien are still strong players who don’t seem like the type to complain about not being in the spotlight.

As Reaper growls into the mic, promising a good show and hyping up the crowd, Mako hears the door to the box open and close.  He twists around to scowl whoever came in back out of the box, but when he sees Fawkes doubled over with a hoodie pulled up to hide from fans, he feels his throat snap shut and his face heat up.

“What-“ he clears his throat and watches Fawkes creep around to peer over the edge of the box.  It’s dim, but his prosthetic lights up his face from underneath, giving his grin an even wilder edge than usual.  “What are you doing, Fawkes?” Mako asks.

“Snuck away from Mother Mei-I to come give you a little preview of the afterparty,” Fawkes says with a grin.

Mako opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s talking about, but Fawkes drops to his knees and pushes up Mako’s gut to undo his belt and pants.  Mako grabs the armrests and looks around wildly before grabbing Fawkes’s hands and shoving them back.  “This is insane, there’s people everywhere,” Mako hisses.  He can see the people in the balcony cheering.  He can see someone across from him in one of the box seats on the other side.  There’s a pit of people jumping and cheering below them.

“They’re not paying us any attention,” Fawkes points out with a lecherous grin, not trying for Mako’s pants, but resting his hands on Mako’s knees and rubbing them with a sly eyebrow wiggle.  “C’mon, mate.  Just a little taste,” Fawkes croons.

Mako’s cock makes the decision for him.  His brain says no, but his hands shake as they undo his pants and Mako glances around one more time before pulling out his cock and stroking his foreskin back.

Fawkes lets out a delighted laugh that Mako can barely hear over the crowd and then he takes Mako in his left hand and starts stroking him while his mouth leans in for a sweet kiss against the tip.

Mako returns his hands to the arms of his chair and watches his idol’s head disappears behind his gut as he licks Mako’s cock like it’s a delicate confectionary.  “You don’t have the time for this,” he says weakly.

Fawkes laughs softly and then takes Mako’s head in his mouth and groans as he takes more of the thick cock in.  Mako echoes the groan, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly he can feel them creak.  He lets go of one and rests his clenched fist on his thigh.  Fawkes’s prosthetic takes his hand and moves it to the back of his head as he takes more in.  He clutches Mako’s hand hard and doesn’t let go until Mako takes a hand full of his hair.  Fawkes scrapes his metal fingers up and down Mako’s thick forearm in a slow, deliberate motion.  Mako drags Fawkes forward and the hand drops away to grip his knee, then pets its way up his thigh as he drags Fawkes back, then pulls him forward again.

His dick touches the back of Fawkes’s throat and the dumb prick moans against it.  Mako grips Fawkes’s hair hard and pulls him back, then tries to go for a shallower thrust, but Fawkes damn near _dives_ forward.  Mako’s hand tightens again, unable to help himself as he holds Fawkes in place, his head swimming and his blood both thrumming in his ears and nowhere to be found.  He feels ice cold and hot all over.  Fawkes swallows to avoid gagging and Mako groans loudly. He doesn’t mean to, but he drags Fawkes closer until his stretched lips are nearly at the thick root of Mako’s cock.  He scrapes his nails against Fawkes’s scalp and his eyes roll back into his head as he thrusts blindly into Fawkes’s struggling throat.  He’s so warm and wet and his hands are gripping Mako’s hand so hard it starts to hurt. 

Mako suddenly realizes through his haze that he’s probably choking Fawkes.  He drags Fawkes off of his prick and attempts to peer over his gut to see if he’s okay, but Fawkes wraps both of his hands around Mako’s cock and teases the head with his lips between panting gasps and the occasional cough.  

“Why’d you pull me off?” Fawkes rasps.  “I was doing good.  Real good, wasn’t I?  Giving you a good gobbie, a real good suck…” his hands and his constant babble make Mako’s cock throb, and he doesn’t have the chance to answer before Fawkes’s tongue toys with his frenulum, clicking his piercing agaisnt Mako’s.  Between the click, the grip of Fawkes’s hands and his hot breath letting out lewd, crackling promises against Mako’s head, he can’t help coming.  Mako grips Fawkes’s hair with one hand and uses his other to press his gut down enough to see his come splatter Fawkes’s cheeks and forehead.  Fawkes sucks his tip with a joyful hum once he’s done, and Mako lays his head back against the seat, blindly petting Fawkes and ending up smearing his come up into the other man’s hair.   _Mine now_ , he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind.  “ _Fuck…_ ” he groans loudly just as the opening set’s last chord fades out.

Nearly the entire theater pauses for a long moment, only a few people clapping and cheering.  The rest are dead silent in the wake of Mako’s orgasm.  Then he hears a low, gravelly laugh.  “Well,” Reaper says, “someone really enjoyed that set.”  Laughter ripples through the audience and a cheer starts up.

Mako feels a cold spike of fear.  Had he really come between sets? How loud had he been?  Shit, shit, could anyone see him?

“Encore!” Fawkes croaks above the din, his cheek resting against Mako’s knee and a stupid grin on his stupid, come smeared face.

“I think they want one more song, boss,” Akande says.

Reaper snorts and waits for the crowd to stop cheering.  “Guess Fawkes can sit on his ass for one more round,” he growls into the mic.

Fawkes chuckles as Akande counts them off with his drumsticks and they launch into another song.  “Fuck, guess I better get back down there,” Fawkes says, like Mako hasn’t been thinking that since he got there.  He wipes the come from his face and then runs his hands through his hair, messing up his artfully disheveled hair and causing his bangs to stick up in a gross, grimy way.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Mako tells him.

Fawkes winks at him and pulls his hoodie back up like it’ll make him any kind of incognito.  He kisses Mako deeply, forcing his tongue past his lips and letting out a cracking groan.  “You know it,” he says with a laugh when he pulls back.  He strides out of the box, leaving Mako with his softening cock out and his mouth tasting of weed, booze and his own come. 

Mako zips up and tries to collect himself enough to go make good on his free concessions.  He’s going to need a lot of beer and fries to make it through this performance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Thyme for the beta and special thanks to Shanks, Muppet, Skadi and Cancel for all their amazing support!

It feels like electricity is buzzing beneath his skin, through his chest and inside his skull.  Jamie can hear the crowd screaming even as he hurries through  the hallways leading from the backstage area.  He can still smell come and the moist tang of sweat collected in the creases of skin.  He can still taste the salt and he’s half-hard as he slips through the door and tries to tiptoe past Mei.  She’s apologizing to Akande for the unplanned song, and when Jamie looks around the rest of the stage, he sees Olivia at her soundboard twirling a wire with two bits of plastic at the ends.  She raises a brow at him and he just shrugs carelessly and rubs his hand through his hair.  The tacky, dried come tugs at his scalp and he feels another thrill shoot through him.  Fuck, there’s nothing like getting his throat fucked before a show.  Especially after he's already taken his meds—he just can’t give more than one shit about _anything._

He’s a little _too_ jazzed, though, and leaps right into Reyes on his way to the stage, who shoves him at Amélie, who shoves him at Maximillien. 

“Hey, Maxie!” Jamie chirps as he’s finally caught instead of manhandled away.  He tries to shrink away to hide behind the shorter man when he remembers immediately afterward that he’s trying to hide from Mei.  Maximillien says something, but Jamie’s focus isn’t on him, so he fades into the background roar of the crowd.  They’ve found a rhythm and are stomping their right feet to call him out. “Uhh… shit, gotta get out there,” he says, patting Maximillien’s shoulder as Mei starts toward him.

He grabs his ear monitors out of Olivia’s hand and pops them in with practiced ease.  Despite the jittery stutter to his pulse and step, his hands are steady as a rock.  Mei nearly catches him, but he runs away from her and onto the stage, disguising his escape as a slide across the lacquered wood, his knees taking him nearly halfway across the stage before he loses momentum.  As soon as he shows his face, the stomping half stops and a roar shakes the venue, rattling through Jamie and taking his breath away for a moment.  

Jamie grins and hops up onto his feet before walking over to the mic stand and pulling it closer.  He glances up at the box to the left of the stage, but the house lights are low and the stage lights blind him.  He hopes Mako can see the wink he throws him.  The left side of the pit cheers and he sees a few elbows connect as two attendees fight to get closer.  

“Good on you for not leaving  when the bloke in the box seats spoofed in my hair,” he says finally, his hand coming up to scratch his head pointedly.  It melds with the hair gel now, stiff and dry. It’ll probably be more likely to flake, though.

The crowd laughs and cheers and Jamie feels himself go on autopilot.  It’s an out of body experience unlike any other to be bombed on pills, booze, caffeine and to have the adrenaline of a massive crowd cheering for him on top of it.  He picks up his guitar from the stand and loops it over his head.

“I’m changing the set list… I want to try something new,” he drops his voice and leans closer to the mic, putting a dirty spin on his next words, “something _personal_.”

He can’t hear her over the crowd, but he’s pretty sure he knows every Spanish word Olivia is using for him right now, even if he doesn’t know what they mean.  They’re all probably nasty.  

Jamie starts off with a screeching chord.  He doesn’t know what it’s technically called, but his fingers know where to go and he milks it for all it’s worth.  There are horns up in the crowd, so it must sound good to more than just his own wrecked ears.  Jamie’s fingers dance across the frets, his blood singing with the riff.  About halfway through, as he slams through another chord, the drums roll in as Olivia begins mixing backstage.  If he’s a genius with the guitar, she’s an all around mastermind with her soundboard.  She doesn’t necessarily follow his lead, but the music moves together until Jamie leads into the first few bars of the tablature for his newest song— the one he wrote for Mako.  

When the crowd realizes which song he’s singing, there’s a swell of screams and cheers.  They’ve never heard it like this before— the only version out there is his raw little acoustic number.  It’s the first song he’s written sober in a while.  The first song he’s cared about in years.

Jamie mentally sits back and lets himself go.  His hands and throat know what they’re doing.  His voice crackles and he loves the sound and feel of his throat aching from being forced open and fucked.  

At the end of the song, Jamie grabs a bottle of water near the front of the stage and downs half of it before giving a cracked whoop. 

“Pretty good, right?” he says, grinning and looking up in the direction of the box seat Mako’s in.  He wants to be there with him again.  Wants to fuck and be fucked, to feel large hands and thick lips and his broad tongue—

Jamie suddenly realizes that he’s standing on the stage, just staring up at the box grinning.  Shit.  How long had he been standing there dissociating?

He giggles ruefully and looks around at the crowd.  “Sorry, just remembering the massive cock I sucked before the show.”  

The confused crowd erupts in a cheer and Jamie grins.  “Bloke from that last song came backstage again, and—“ Jamie lets out a long, high whistle.  “Forgot how nice his cock is.  Remember now, though,” he’s babbling.  He hasn’t babbled on stage in years.  He should wrap it up, but he just laughs and keeps going.  Maybe his high is wearing off.  “Guess we’re earning the parental advisory on this one, mates.”  He saw a few teens earlier, when he was slipping through the crowd incognito.  “If you brought yours, they’re either really fucking cool or you’ve learned a valuable lesson tonight _and_ you’re fuckin’ _grounded_.”

The crowd cheers.  Half drunkenly, half uncertainly.  He’s going to read about this on some blog tomorrow.   _Fawkes Flubs Fans with Fuck Fable_.

Despite his high, he’s spiraling, knocked off his game instead of just letting himself go.  Olivia starts in on the first few lines of one of the songs of their actual set and Jamie gratefully joins in.  “Right,” he says.  “You lot didn’t come here for an update on my lovelife.  You came here to rock, right?”

The crowd cheers and Jamie starts in on the next song.

Overall, the rest of the concert is a rush of anxiety and adrenaline for Jamie.  He doesn’t have any extra pills in his pocket—he doesn’t usually need them— and so he’s left mostly sober on the stage and weighing the pros and cons of leaving to get another hit out of his dressing room.  He would definitely need another before he saw Mako afterward—if he still came backstage again after Jamie all but announced that he’d sucked Mako’s cock before the show.  Despite being terrified that Mako will just tell him to fuck off now, Jamie finds a little nook of peace in thinking about the other man.  He tries to calm himself and focus on the memory of soft tits in his hands, the blush on Mako’s dusky skin and how fucking gorgeous his gray hair is.  No bottle can make that color, and it’s fucking wonderful.

When the final chord rings through the venue, Jamie is soaked through with sweat.  His broken whoop is drowned out by the roar of the crowd.  He downs his sixth water bottle of the night and throws the empty bottle out into the middle.  They crowd surges toward it and they throw it back and forth among themselves.  Maybe it was fine.  Maybe it wasn’t terrible. Whatever “it” is.

He forces himself to stay out long enough to raise his hand to the crowd, then he walks off.  

“Fawkes, where are you going?” The stage manager asks.  “They’ll want at least one encore.”

“Jamison!” Mei yells when he keeps going.  

“Jamie?” Olivia calls after him, grabbing his arm but not strongly enough to stop him. 

Jamie is heading straight for the back door to get to his bus.  He just needs a pill and he’ll be fine. Or three.  Depends on how he feels after the first one and whether Mei leaves him alone.

“I don’t think you want to go out there, boss,” one of the security guys says when he reaches the back door.

“I’ll be fine, I’m going straight for the bus,” Jamie says.

“I would wait for—“

“I said _I’m fine_ ,” Jamie snaps before shoving through the door.  

He’s not fine, and the wave of emotion that is waiting for him on the other side of the door isn’t something he can deal with.  The guard follows Jamie out and steps in front of him to help make a path through the people, but Jamie’s heart still feels like it’s about to rip out of his chest and run away, leaving his body behind to rot in the throng of rabid fans and the smattering of angry protestors.  If any of them touches him, he’s going to punch them, he’s just too keyed up.

He picks out “Fake!” and “Sellout!” from the excited screams of the fans.  Jamie flips them off and sticks his tongue out, but that just makes things worse and the crowd surges forward, fan and protestor alike pushing against the security guard.  Jamie takes two steps back before he hits a wall.  Maybe picking a fight with a mob isn’t a great idea.  As he stops moving, so does the crowd and those immediately around him actually start backing up.  

Jamie turns to look at what he ran into and he grins up at Mako’s stern face.  “You didn’t leave!” he says happily, wrapping his arms around Mako and leaning into him in a pseudo-hug. 

Mako looks down.  As soon as he turns his attention to Jamie, his lips quirk in the barest of smiles and Jamie can’t help grinning back as he slides off of Mako.  “You need an escort?” Mako asks.

Jamie nods and then turns back to begin walking to his bus again.  The crowd parts before the security guard in front of him now that Mako has joined them and a new, different spike of adrenaline runs through Jamie.  

Jamie reaches back and takes a hold of one of Mako’s hands with his flesh fingers.  Mako squeezes Jamie’s hand between his thumb and forefinger and doesn't let go until Jamie leads him up into his bus. 

Once they’re alone, Jamie throws himself at Mako, kissing him deeply until that tickle at the back of his mind starts in.  What if this wasn’t what he wants?  What if he came here to tell Jamie he didn’t want to see him again? The song was stupid and too much.  Jamie is too much.

Jamie drops away and Mako grabs his hips to keep him close before Jamie pets his chest and kisses his chin.  “I’ll be right back,” he promises, giving Mako’s tits a squeeze.  “Don’t you three go anywhere.”

Mako chuckles and releases Jamie’s hips.

Jamie’s pills are in the bedside table, and he shakes out three before it strikes him that he doesn’t actually need that many—three and he would probably forget the whole night, two and he would be too relaxed to really return any affection.  One would calm the voice telling him he’s too much and not enough.  He returns the other two to the bottle and knocks one back dry.

When he returns, Mako is spread out on his couch like a half-opened present.  Jamie grins and brings his long legs up to kneel on either side of Mako’s hips.  “I thought you left,” Jamie tells him, his hands finding Mako’s tits again and massaging them through the t-shirt.  He can feel the hard steel of Mako’s nipple rings, and he pulls one through the shirt with a cheeky grin.  

“After _that_ preshow?” Mako snorts and leans in, but stops when there’s a sudden swell in the volume of the crowd of fans outside.  

“Must be letting out of the venue,” Jamie murmurs.  “Ignore ‘em.  Can’t get in or see in,” he assures Mako as he leans in to kiss Mako’s neck and grinds against his stomach, trying to get his stiffie back.  Mako rests his hand on Jamie’s ass and encourages the grinding.  His other hand slides under Jamie’s shirt and pushes it up until Jamie has to withdraw for a second to allow it to be pulled off.

The contact and the look in Mako’s eyes keeps Jamie’s worries away until the pill kicks in and he finally feels like he can relax for the first time in several hours.  Once it hits, everything just feels _right_.

Mako isn’t ready to go again, but he lets Jamie fuck the crevice of his belly until he comes and then Jamie ends up cuddled up next to him trying not to fall asleep.

When Mako’s cock is ready to play again, Jamie gets down on his knees and lazily sucks him off until he realizes that Mako is pressing at his gut trying to get a good look at what he’s doing.  He sucks his way off and drags Mako to his bathroom where there’s a full length mirror.  He pushes Mako’s gut back from his cock and angles them to where Mako can at least see from the side, and then licks him from base to tip and sucks Mako back down.

Mako doesn’t last long, and when he comes, his hand is on the back of Jamie’s head and his cock is as far back as it will go.  Jamie’s throat aches more than before, but he doesn’t give a single shit.  His voice cracks when he laughs at Mako gently cleaning his face with a wet cloth, and he grabs Mako’s hand and pulls it back toward him to suck Mako’s thumb into his mouth greedily as his other hand gropes his own cock.

“You look good like that,” Mako rumbles, dragging Jamie up with his other hand to allow him to continue to suck on Mako’s thumb.

“Hm?” Jamie hums around the thumb.

“With something of mine in your mouth,” Mako clarifies.  He pulls Jamie closer and slides his thigh between Jamie’s legs to let him hump against it.  

Jamie slurps his way off of Mako’s thumb and lets his tongue loll out lazily as he laughs.  “Bit possessive, innit?” he asks, rolling his hips faster against Mako’s thigh and beginning to pant softly with the effort.

“You wrote a song about wanting to fuck me again,” Mako points out.

Jamie scoffs indignantly.  “I did not! I just said I wanted to see you again.”

Mako laughs and pets Jamie’s hair, beginning to move with him to increase the stimulation.  “Sure.” He stares down at Jamie for a few more seconds and then runs his thumb down Jamie’s cheek to his jaw.  “Good seeing you,” Mako says.

“Shit, do you have to go?” he breathes and stops humping to cling to Mako.

Mako shakes his head.  “Not really,” he says, and he drags Jamie closer.  “Just saying…” he hesitates and then he keeps going, “I’m glad you wanted to see me again.”

Jamie wraps his arms around Mako’s neck and kisses him.  “You want to stay for breakfast this time?” Jamie asks.  “You think my blowjobs are good tonight, just wait until you wake up with my mouth on you.”

“Sounds better than breakfast.”  Mako squeezes Jamie’s ass and drags him up so that he doesn’t have to keep leaning down to kiss him.  

Jamie tries to wrap his legs around Mako’s hips, but Mako’s gut is in the way, so Jamie just clings with his knees like riding a horse until Mako takes them out of the bathroom and to the back of the trailer where the bed is.  He sits with Jamie in his lap, then shifts to lie down with the other man still clinging to him.  “You want to go again?” Mako asks, teasing Jamie’s ass with his finger.  They’ve been having so much fun otherwise that he hasn’t even touched Jamie’s ass.  It’s a shame but also Jamie’s throat has a pleasant ache and he loves it.

Ever since he started singing for hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, no one’s up for fucking his throat and it _sucks._ Some of his first hits were recorded on a wrecked throat with Olivia shaking her head and forcing cold water down his throat between takes.

Jamie nuzzles Mako’s chest and mouths at his nipple through the shirt.  “Wanna watch me open myself up again?” he rasps, beginning to push Mako’s shirt up.

Mako snorts and reaches for the bedside table.  He looks a little surprised when he jostles through about six pill bottles in varying states of empty before he finds the lube, but he doesn’t say anything, just squeezes the jelly onto his fingers and starts working Jamie open.  “Think I’ll do my own dirty work,” Mako rumbles.

He’s careful and pauses frequently to  make sure that Jamie is taking his finger well.  Jamie thrusts back against it and moans every time he stops.  He kisses Mako’s chest and sucks on the bar going through his nipple and grinds forward against Mako’s half-hardon.  

He is _so big._ Jamie could happily ride one of his fingers alone, but the second one makes his limbs weak, and when the third teases his rim, he goes limp, his mouth open and panting against Mako’s chest.  

“You okay?” Mako asks.

Jamie groans and jerks his hips back, trying to take in more as his answer.  Mako chuckles and withdraws his fingers to lube up his cock.  

Jamie doesn’t bother sitting up to ride him.  Once Mako slips in, he wraps his arms around the other man firmly and begins to roll his hips, setting a slow, easy pace that makes Jamie want to never come just so he can feel like this forever.

He has to eventually, though, and the soft, tender way Mako pets him after he shudders through his orgasm nearly hurts.  Jamie presses sloppy, loose kisses to Mako’s chest as thick, strong, careful fingers rub his back.  

“Stay,” Jamie begs breathlessly as his eyes sag.  “Please stay.”

“Sure,” Mako rumbles, pressing a big, wet kiss to Jamie’s forehead.  “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” Jamie asks.

Mako grunts and his petting turns into a hold as he curls tighter around Jamie.  “Whatever,” he confirms, after Jamie thinks he’s already asleep.  Jamie might already be asleep.  

He feels lips move against his skin as he drifts off, and he tries to kiss back, but he’s not sure if he quite makes it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skadi asked for more of this little AU.
> 
> Thank to Thyme for the beta!

Jamie’s head throbs when he awakes.  That’s the only thing that feels bad.  He usually kicks his blankets off some time in the night, but he’s warm and wishes his head would stop pounding so that he can go back to sleep.  He snuggles deeper into the warmth surrounding him and then realizes that he’s wrapped up in a warm, snuggly person when the massive arms around him contract slightly to hold him closer.

He shifts to turn around and see the man he slept with.  Last night hits him like a cold bucket of water.  The fuck-off big guy came back.  Mako. Maybe.  Fuck that’s awkward, but he absolutely can’t remember all the shit he hears when he’s had his meds.

Jamie wiggles out of Mako’s (?) embrace to find his pants.  He has twenty missed texts and he marks them all as read without looking at any of them before actually reading Mei’s messages.  

_9:51 PM Ice Queen: Jamie, where are you? Your set is next!_

_9:55 PM Ice Queen: 5 minutes!_

_9:57 PM Ice Queen: 2 minutes…_

_10:05 PM Ice Queen: They’re doing another song, so you have SOME time, but if you don’t get here in the next three minutes I’m going to QUIT I swear to God._

_12:07 PM Ice Queen: Okay, here’s a recap for the morning: You showed up ten minutes late to your set, openers did an extra song, the man in your bed is named Mako, and I hate you._

_6:26 AM Jamie: love you too_

_6:27 AM Jamie: cappuccino for my mate and a tea for me?_

He sends it with a winky face and a winky kissy face before crawling back into bed and putting his phone in the small crevice specifically for keeping a phone close by.  When he settles down to look at his bed mate, he’s met with gorgeous brown eyes.

His throat hurts when he swallows and his voice cracks when he says, “g’day.”

“G’day,” Mako rumbles and Jamie feels his knees turn to jelly even though he’s not standing.  Mako wraps one of his arms around Jamie and pulls him closer easily, snuggling him like a giant bear.

“Hooley dooley,” Jamie breathes.

“Hm?” Mako loosens his embrace and pulls back looking worried.  “You okay?” he asks.

Jamie laughs and slips his arms beneath Mako’s to return the embrace.  “Fuck yeah I am.  Got so smashed last night that I forgot how deep your voice was for a tic,” he admits, tilting his face up for a kiss.

Mako leans in to connect their mouths and Jamie sucks on his bottom lip with a low hum as he pulls back.  “I like your lips,” Jamie says.

“Uh thanks,” Mako replies before Jamie kisses him again.  Chapped but soft and warm.  Mako’s lips are goddamned perfect.

Jamie wraps his arms around Mako’s neck and kisses him again and again until Mako rolls over onto his back and drags Jamie up onto his belly, his hands on his hips and a pleasant rumble building in Mako’s chest.

Jamie laughs and draws back to get a better look at him.  He’s about to say something when there’s a knock at the door and he wiggles down Mako to get off the bed and to the door.  He finds a nice, thick present on his way to the foot of the bed and gives Mako’s morning wood a squeeze with a grin as his feet touch the carpet.

Mako sits up to watch him walk away and Jamie gives him a wink, walking backwards across the trailer.  “I’ll be right back for that in _just_ a secon—“ and then his prosthetic heel catches on his jeans while his other foot steps on them and he goes down in a cascade of limbs and curses.

“Fawkes!” Mako says.

“Jamie, are you okay?” Mei asks as she opens the door.

“Yeah.  Yeah, good.  Just uh… didn’t realize my jeans were in the way,” he says, sitting up and beginning to crawl to his feet.

Mei climbs into the trailer and sets the carrier of drinks on the dining table.  “What do you two want for breakfast?” she asks, taking napkins out of one of the spare holders and setting them down on the table— right before Jamie spins her back around toward the door.

“I’ll text you!” Jamie tells her.  “Still got _lots_ to talk about with my—er— _friend_.  Thanks for the drinks, don’t come back!”  

“Jamie!” Mei protests, but then she’s down the steps and out the door.  “Jamie, you have a signing two cities away in three hours!”

Jamie climbs the stairs again and grabs the drinks before turning to Mako with a grin.  “You like coffee?” he asks.

Mako chuckles and scoots down to sit on the edge of the bed.  He accepts the cappuccino and wraps his arm around Jamie’s waist, pulls him close and presses a kiss to his cheek.  

“Thanks,” Mako says.  Jamie kisses his neck, licking the salty sweat from the crease beneath his jaw.  “Sounds like you have a previous engagement,” Mako says, rubbing Jamie’s bare hip. His palm finds the rug burn on Jamie’s ass and Jamie jumps a little.

“I’d rather spend the day with you,” he tells Mako, crawling up onto his thigh and slurping a mouthful of boba tea.

Mako hums and slides his hand down to support Jamie.  “I’d rather that too, but you’ve got to work,” Mako points out.  He takes a testing sip of the hot coffee and then a larger gulp.  “Not bad,” he says.

“Wasn’t sure how you took it,” Jamie admits.  “Figure a cappuccino is pretty universal.”

Mako hums and takes another gulp before resting his cheek on Jamie’s shoulder.  “I like dark roast with lots of cream and sugar.”

“Noted,” Jamie says, bringing his own drink up to his lips.  He takes his time chewing the boba before swallowing and shifting his cup to his right hand.  He wraps his flesh fingers around Mako’s wrist and gives it a squeeze.  “For next time?” he asks.

Mako’s head comes up and Jamie takes a deep breath, reminds himself that he’s Jamison Fawkes, a bad boy rockstar who Mako came to see twice in nearly the same week.  He shouldn’t feel like he’s staring down the barrel of a gun when Mako is facing him with warm brown eyes and an awkward smile.

“I’d love for there to be a next time,” Mako assures him.  

Jamie grins and bounces to his feet before taking Mako’s coffee and setting both of their drinks on the nearest available surface.  “I gotta work, but I think there’s enough time for one more run,” Jamie says as he returns to Mako and then makes to drop to his knees.

Mako catches Jamie and lifts him back up into his lap.  “I’d rather give you a ride,” Mako says. It’s so smooth and low that Jamie thinks he’ll nut just from the big hands on him and the innocent sounding words turned into an illicit offer.

“Fuck.”  Jamie crawls further up Mako and leans down to kiss and suck one of his nipples.  His teeth click against Mako’s nipple ring and he rubs his cock against Mako’s wonderfully firm stomach as Mako’s fingers tease his ass.  He’s a bit loose from last night, but not enough that he can fit Mako again.

Mako finds the lube and stretches Jamie open again while he tongues Mako’s nipple ring and groans against his chest.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Jamie says when he feels Mako’s fingers brush his prostate.  “I’m _so_ good.”

A laugh leaves Mako and he shifts up a bit to kiss Jamie’s hair as he withdraws his fingers and slicks his cock.  Mako guides Jamie back until his cock begins to stretch him open and then he slides his hands up from spreading Jamie’s cheeks to hold his hips.  

“Fuck,” Jamie breathes, watching the shiny metal of the piercing fog beneath his breath. 

“Good?” Mako asks.

“Yeah,” Jamie gasps as he rolls his hips.  “Ugh, I’ll get a better angle if I sit up, but you’re _so comfy_ …” he mumbles.

“You can lay on me after,” Mako promises, his breaths labored.  

Jamie sits up eagerly and rolls his hips, taking in more of Mako’s cock.  “Mmmmm… I love morning sex,” he mumbles as he fucks himself onto Mako.  “I love your cock.” 

“My cock loves you,” Mako returns with a low chuckle.

“You must feel like a real… nngh… third wheel,” Jamie groans.

“Nope.”  Mako’s slick hand wraps around Jamie’s cock and gives it a long, firm stroke with a twist at the head.  Jamie’s movement grinds to a stop as he tries to avoid shooting off from one fucking touch.  Maybe he’s too used to working hard to get up and off while drunk.  “I think your cock has a thing for me too,” he says.

Jamie sinks back down and shudders as pleasure rolls through him.  “Think you’re right,” he admits, drawing up and then sinking down again.

Mako doesn’t get anything out as a response, just pants and groans beneath him as Jamie fucks himself onto Mako’s cock.  It’s too silent, so Jamie fills the space on his own.

“God yeah.  You’re so thick and good.  So good.  Fuck.  Fuck yeah.  Wonderful fucking cock…” he groans.  

Mako’s hands slide up and down Jamie’s flexing thighs.  His eyes flicker between Jamie’s face, his panting chest, and his rippling abs.  Jamie is hungry for Mako’s cock and Mako looks damned _starved_ for Jamie.  He’s had him for a night and a morning and he still wants more.  He can see it in his face.  He _wants_ Jamie.

“Shit… shit, _Fawkes…_!” Mako’s nails bite into Jamie’s glutes.  He holds Jamie firmly down around his cock as Mako’s hips thrust up in a few desperate jerks.  

When he comes, Jamie feels the warm spill of it and shivers.  “Stroke me off,” Jamie begs, and Mako’s hand moves around him again.  He goes slow, so, so slow.  Jamie arches, gasps, and lets out a low whine before he opens his mouth to continue begging. 

“Mako, mate, please, c’mon…” Jamie massages Mako’s chest in a desperate bid for more, faster, firmer.  “I need it.  Gotta go to work, remember?  Already got you off.  Can’t help needing to come with your cock in my ass. Please, Mako.”  He toys with Mako’s nipple ring, pulling lightly and rolling his hips around Mako’s slowly softening cock. “Please…”

Mako twists his hand around Jamie and gives him a firm squeeze from base to tip—then speeds up his strokes until Jamie comes against his stomach with a shout that cracks in the middle.

Mako laughs and rubs Jamie’s thighs and sides.  Jamie smiles and lays forward, resting his cheek against Mako belly.

They lie there, petting and pillowing and smiling until Mako’s belly rumbles loudly beneath Jamie’s cheek.   Jamie laughs and turns his head to press a kiss to Mako’s stomach.  “Got a preference for breakfast?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s a diner a few blocks over,” Mako says.  “They have great waffles.”

Jamie grins and nuzzles up into Mako’s chest.  “I love waffles.”

Mako pulls Jamie up and off his cock before depositing him beside him.  He stands and grabs his coffee, draining the last of it, then stooping to collect his clothing.  He tosses clothes at Jamie as he goes and Jamie pulls them on, watching Mako intently as he dresses.

He doesn’t remember Mako being this _muscled_.  Then again, he doesn’t really remember anything about him aside from _Big_.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” Jamie remarks, reaching for his drawer of pills out of habit.  He gets it open and roots around for the smallest bottle before realizing that for the first time in a long time, he feels… _fine_.

He slowly closes the drawer and then slides down to the foot of the bed to watch  Mako pull his boots on and lace them.  It gives Jamie a gorgeous view of Mako’s ass peeking over the top of his waistband while he does it, and Jamie relaxes back and enjoys the show.  Until Mako straightens up and turns around to see Jamie staring.

“What?” Jamie asks, his grin widening.

“What’re you looking at?” Mako asks, taking a few lumbering steps toward him.

Jamie would have been scared if he were anyone else _or_ had a shred of self preservation.  He knows the man is a huge fan and probably a little obsessed with him.  Hopefully not skin him and wear his face obsessed.

Mako leans down and kisses him and any worries about his face getting carved off disappear.  It’s obvious that Mako thinks Jamie’s lips are just fine where they are.  He chuckles and wraps his arms around Mako’s neck to keep him close.  He pulls away with a groan and kisses Mako’s cheek, then chin.  Maybe a little snack before they headed out for breakfast—

“I’m starving,” Mako says before he easily pries Jamie’s arms from his neck and lets him drop to the bed. 

“Thought your name was Mako,” Jamie says with a pout.

“Only when I’m not hungry,” Mako returns dryly.

A hyena’s cackle leaves Jamie and he rolls off of the bed so that he can pull boots on because Mako deserves a whole fucking pancake house for that joke.

“Didn’t think it was that funny,” Mako comments.

“It was _perfect_ ,” Jamie assures him. “If anyone knows good jokes, it’s me.”

“Oh yeah?” Mako asks, following Jamie out of the trailer.

“Yeah! Dabbled in amateur comedy before our career took off,” he boasts.  Mako takes his hand once they’re out and Jamie feels a warmth flood through him.  “I can still work in a good punchline every once in a while.”

Mako grunts in response and Jamie takes that as his cue to detail his comedic career from start to finish as they walk to the waffle house.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako grunts as he shifts out of the booth that’s too small for his girth. He doesn’t let go of Jamie’s hand as he comes around to sit with him, sliding him over and blocking him from the rest of the restaurant. He wraps his arm around Jamie and links their fingers. Jamie resists pushing him away. Just barely. “Deep breaths,” Mako tells Jamie, breathing deeply as an example.
> 
> Jamie focuses on Mako’s breathing and his warm side and hand instead of the panicking spiral he’s having in public and after the first few breaths, he takes hold on Mako’s hand for all he's worth. Deep breaths.
> 
> It doesn’t fix it. He still feels shitty, but he feels better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter courtesy of Cancel~

The waffle house is a good idea until it’s not.  Jamie loves the American 50’s aesthetic they have and teases Mako’s feet beneath the booth.  Mako seems content to sit across from him and act like Jamie’s not sliding his foot slowly up his leg.  

When he makes it up Mako’s thigh, he just lets his heel rest on the seat and toes Mako’s gut with a soft laugh.  “You know how comfortable you are, mate?  You’re just soft enough to be comfy but you’re firm too.  Real muscly.”

“You’re just corded muscle and bone,” Mako replies before sipping his coffee.  He glances around and then drops one of his hands beneath the table and touches Jamie’s leg, not trying to push his foot away, just touching it, rubbing his thumb along Jamie’s shin and cupping his calf.  He gives a squeeze and then brings his hand back up above the table.  “Is it safe for you to be out here like this?” he asks.  “Think half of the people in here were at your concert.”

“Nah, probably fine,” Jamie waves it off and jiggles his foot against Mako’s belly again.  It’s better than fidgeting with an ADD toy or ripping a napkin to shreds.  He grins cheekily and shifts so his heel presses against Mako’s crotch.  “Besides, I got a nice, big sexcurity guard to protect me.”

Mako snorts at the joke and squeezes his thighs together to catch Jamie’s foot.  “Yeah?  Think molesting your security is going to ensure your protection?”

“Think so.  I like the idea of a greedy guard who wants to—“ fuck.   _Protection_.  “Shit, did we use condoms last night?” he asks.

Mako raises a brow at him and shakes his head.  “I don’t have a habit of using them,” he admits.  “Should we?”

Jamie withdraws his foot and crosses his arms.  Fuck.  “Probably.”  He tries to think back and he can barely remember anything before waking up in warm, comfortable arms— 

“I don’t get out enough to have them on hand,” Mako says.  “I’ll remember for both of us next time,” he assures him.

“You uh… you might need to get checked.  I’m the opposite, I get around a lot and I usually use one, but…” Jamie shrugs and rubs his face with his flesh hand.  It feels like a huge deal, even if Mako isn’t acting mad.  It feels like so much of a fuck up that Jamie feels himself spiraling.  He tells himself Mako should hate him just because he should go get checked.  Why was he such a fuck up? Why—

Mako’s hand takes Jamie’s and he gives his fingers a squeeze.  

“Sorry, I just forget the smart shit when I take too many meds and I know things but I just get swept into the moment more...” he knows he needs to pause and take a deep breath to ground himself, but he feels like if he stops the quick, shallow breaths he’s taking he’ll pass out.  He should have just taken his bloody meds what kind of idiot—?

Mako grunts as he shifts out of the booth that’s too small for his girth.  He doesn’t let go of Jamie’s hand as he comes around to sit with him, sliding him over and blocking him from the rest of the restaurant.  He wraps his arm around Jamie and links their fingers.  Jamie resists pushing him away.  Just barely.  “Deep breaths,” Mako tells Jamie, breathing deeply as an example.

Jamie focuses on Mako’s breathing and his warm side and hand instead of the panicking spiral he’s having in public and after the first few breaths, he takes hold on Mako’s hand for all he's worth.  Deep breaths.

It doesn’t fix it.  He still feels shitty, but he feels better.

Deep breath in, slow breath out.  Lean into Mako and point at what he wants for breakfast.  He feels like an idiot.  He feels like a child.  For the first time in years, though, he doesn’t feel like he’s on his own in the middle of a room with everyone staring at him, waiting to see what he’ll do wrong.  He doesn’t feel like he has to act worse than they expect just to spite them all.  He feels like he can be himself, even if this cuddling, quiet, pathetic thing isn’t really him.

Jamie finds his voice again when their food comes and Mako keeps his arm around him but lets his hand go so that he can use it to eat.

“Do you want me to stay here or move to the other side?” Mako asks.

“Stay here,” Jamie croaks.  He reaches for his coffee and takes a sip before clearing his throat.  “You’re warm.  I like you.”

Mako chuckles and slides his fingertips beneath Jamie’s shirt to pet his happy trail and he gives it a scratch.  “I like you too,” he assures Jamie.  “You like bacon?” He asks, shifting his to the edge of his plate.

“Yeah.”  Jamie reaches over and pulls the slices to his own plate.  He feels his phone buzz and pulls it out of his pocket.  It’s Mei, reminding him that he has obligations.  He feels his heart rate spike again.  He takes a deep breath and sets his phone down on the table.  It lights up when she messages him again five minutes later. He stops eating and sits there, quietly staring at it until Mako picks the phone up, turns it off, and then puts it in his pocket.

Jamie doesn’t realize what he’s doing until it’s gone.  “I should probably answer her,” he points out.

Mako snorts and shrugs.  “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

Jamie knows that.  But what he and Olivia are trying to do— well, what Olivia is trying to do…. “Nah, I have to,” he insists and reaches across Mako for his phone.

Mako licks some syrup off his thumb before catching Jamie’s hand.  “It’s not healthy for you to have anxiety and then throw yourself into a stressful situation,” Mako points out.

“If it’s not what I’m stressed out about, it’ll distract me,“ Jamie says, but it sounds weak, even to him.

“Yeah, I know,” Mako tells him.  “That’s not healthy.”

Jamie huffs and rests his face against Mako’s chest.  “Yeah? What’s healthy, then?”

“Talking about it, taking your meds— _properly_ ,” he emphasizes when Jamie opens his mouth to protest. “Taking time off instead of having concerts every week and an album every few months.”

Jamie deflates against him and Mako chuckles, patting him.  “You know a lot about this shit,” Jamie comments after a while of just lying against Mako.

“I work in a high school.  At least one kid suffers a breakdown every week.  And I’ve been there a few times.  Anxiety is bullshit, but it’s bullshit you have to deal with or it gets worse,” Mako explains.

“That’s a lot of words,” Jamie comments.  It’s dumb.  He wants to thank him, but all he can think of is that he hasn’t heard Mako speak this much since he met him.  He’s been a quiet, comforting, sexual presence both nights that they’ve spent together, and while Jamie knows he babbles constantly even if he doesn’t remember it, he feels like Mako talks with his hands and lips more than his voice.

Mako snorts and pets Jamie, even if Jamie is pretty sure he’s failing whatever social interaction they’re having.  “Yeah, well... it’s because I care.”

Jamie shifts to look up at Mako and raises a brow at him.  “Not just here to say you slept with a rockstar?” he asks.

Mako snorts.  “Nah.  I’ve been following you for a long time,” he says.  “Uh… oops, that sounds creepy.”

Jamie laughs and shrugs.  “Think I know what you mean.  So you’ve been a fan for a long time?” he asks.

“Yeah, nearly since you started,” Mako says.  “I first bought one of your CDs from my friend Lucio.”

“Techno-green?” Jamie asks, lighting up.  “He did my first mixes—before Olivia picked me up.  How’s he doing?”

“Pretty good.  He’s mostly focusing on activism,” Mako replies.  

Jamie laughs awkwardly and shrugs.  “Yeah, he was always into that.  I uh… I tried to do that kind of thing, but I ain’t got the attention span for it.”

Mako grunts and shrugs too.  “Not for everyone.  You did some good with a few of your songs.”

Jamie nods reluctantly.  “I guess.  People think I’m too commercial nowadays, though.”

Mako scrapes up the last of his eggs and mounds them onto a piece of waffle.  “I guess I can see that.”

It stings, but Jamie eats bacon instead of letting it get to him.  Mako’s still stroking his side, so his perceived shittiness must just be in his mind and in any assholes who try to make him feel guilty for it.

Mako must notice him go quiet because he turns his head and presses a kiss to Jamie’s temple.  “What?” he asks.

Jamie leans into Mako’s side more and closes his eyes.  “Just thinking about whether that’s a bad thing.”

Mako squeezes Jamie before raising his hand at their waitress for the check.  “Not bad or good,” he says.  “It’s like what I do.  Some teachers are there to change the world, some are just showing up for a paycheck.”

Jamie doesn’t think he wants to fuck or date anyone smaller or younger than him ever again.  Mako is huge and smart and he makes Jamie feel better without chemicals.  “Unlock your phone for me,” Jamie says, drawing back.

Mako pulls his phone out and unlocks it before handing it to Jamie.  

Jamie enters his cell phone number while munching on the last of his bacon.  “There.  This way I won’t have to post a new song on YouTube and Twitter every time I want to see you,” he says, handing it back to Mako.

Mako snorts and tucks his phone back into his pocket.  “I’ll still take one,” he tells Jamie as the check comes.  He lets go of Jamie to reach for his wallet when Jamie makes a scoffing sound and digs in his pocket for whatever cash he has.  Mei usually makes sure he has something in his pockets.  He doesn’t bring his wallet eight out of ten times that he walks out the door.  He puts two twenties on the bill tray and nudges Mako.  

“Let’s go,” Jamie says.  “If I’m skipping my signing thing, then you’re making me feel better about it for the rest of the day.”

“Oh yeah?” Mako gives his side a pinch, prompting a laugh from Jamie.  “How am I going to do that?” he asks.

“Dealer’s choice.  Show me your favorite shit around your town; take me home; anything that keeps me away from work,” Jamie says.

Mako scoots out of the booth and rests his hand on Jamie’s lower back once he’s stood up too.  Jamie feels eyes on them now that he’s not being blocked by Mako’s girth, but the hand on his back and the promise of not having to deal with any rockstar shit for a day keeps him from resuming his spiral.  He still feels it under his skin, waiting, but for now, it’s at bay.  For now, he’s happy to follow Mako out of the waffle house and back to the venue, where he finds out that Mako rides a giant motorcycle and always has an extra helmet with him.

Jamie laughs loudly and presses up against Mako as he peels out of the parking lot.


End file.
